


One of the Team

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge Response
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-13
Updated: 2007-09-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Dr. Lindsay misses a missionWritten for 100_situations/prompt: smile





	One of the Team

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: The character Dr. Lindsay is the one appearing in SG-1: Origins and SGA: Coup D’Etat.  


* * *

Dr. Lindsay’s room was done in browns. Not dull, boring browns. Rich, deep browns that ranged from the colours of the desert to dark chocolate. She even wore a caramel coloured tank that should have made her blend into the decor of the room but it didn’t. It made her dark hair and pale skin stand out more. She stood in the open doorway, facing Major Lorne with a quiet smile.

 

“Hey,” he grinned. “You stood me up.”

 

Lindsay blinked at him. Stood him up? Not in this lifetime, and she was damn sure if she had, she would've remembered it.

 

“The weekly agricultural mission? My duty roster showed you as the Agriculturalist of choice, not Dr. Brown.”

 

“Oh,” she laughed. “Sorry. I’m not feeling so hot and Carson suggested staying in quarters for a day or so. It’s probably just a head cold, but it’d be bad to spread it around.”

 

“Good call,” he agreed. “Do you need anything?”

 

“No, I’m good.”

 

“Okay. Feel better then and I’ll see you next week,” Lorne practically ordered, moving away from the door.

 

He’d gone a few feet down the hall when Lindsay poked her head out of the doorway.

 

“Uh, Major Lorne?” she called.

 

“Yeah?” he turned halfway in the hallway, waiting.

 

“Thanks for coming to check on me.”

 

He shrugged it off with a classic Lorne grin, the one that would guarantee a lifetime full of steamy Friday night encounters no matter what galaxy he found himself in.

 

“You’re part of my team, it’s part of the job,” he answered matter-of-factly, his quirky smile promising that it was anything but. “You get better now, Dr. Lindsay.”

 

“Abigail,” she called back impulsively. They'd never exchanged first names before and suddenly that seemed a little weird to her. 

 

“Abigail,” Lorne repeated, not returning the gesture with his own.

 

“Abby,” she smiled.

 

Lorne inclined his head and returned her hesitant expression with a more confident one.

 

“Good night, Abby.”

 

She faded back into her room and he turned in his original direction, shifting the P-90 and Tac-vest into something that resembled a more comfortable position. Real comfort was negated by the fact he’d already been wearing the thing for close to 18 hours that day. Behind him, Lindsay came back to her doorway.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, as though if she didn’t get it out fast enough she wouldn’t say it.

 

Lorne faced her. “Excuse me?”

 

“For leaving you that night - ”

 

He looked at her quizzically.

 

“When you were kidnapped…”

 

“Oh, yeah, that night – ,” he tightened his lips, making his dimples stand out prominently. Those dimples had been the topic of many Girls’ Poker Night discussions. He retraced the half a dozen or so steps back to her door. “You did exactly what I asked you to. Why are you apologizing?”

 

“Ronon said – “

 

“Ronon’s just a big teddy bear,” Lorne interrupted her.

 

Lindsay frowned, her eyebrows pulling together in disbelief.

 

“Okay,” he corrected, “maybe Ronon’s a big polar bear, with teeth and all,” he winked. “But if you’d stayed with us that night, or even come back, you’d’ve been kidnapped too and there wouldn’t have been anyone to tell Atlantis what had happened,” he explained patiently.

 

His logic seemed to pacify Lindsay.

 

“Get some sleep,” he instructed, “feel better soon. We’ve got a mission next week and I’m not settling for Dr. Brown again.” He said the last bit with mock seriousness and a bit of layered-on gruff.

 

Lindsay nodded, stepping back and keying the door closed, leaving Lorne to head back down the Lantean corridor, trying again to shift TAC-vest into a more comfortable position.


End file.
